


Full of Grace

by lastthatlong



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Canon Typical Sexual Violence, Catholic Guilt, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Religious Guilt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2020-06-30 10:54:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19851673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lastthatlong/pseuds/lastthatlong
Summary: It never got easier to confess his great shame:"Father, I have had homosexual thoughts."Or, Sonny is repressed and depressed when he comes to Manhattan.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work in the fandom, and I know nothing about policing or lawyering. I know a little about Catholicism and a little about what Sonny goes through in this. Please feel free to comment and criticize, constructively or otherwise! Will be posting updates as they come.

Sonny picked up the ripped envelope, the one with the familiar blue return address printed in the corner and accompanied by an equally blue cross. He chewed the inside of his lip, remembering his teenage years. He didn’t bother looking at the papers inside. He’d opened these letters before. 

His phone alarm chimed over and over again. He set the envelope back on top of a pile of his sister’s things, then reached for his back pocket to shut up the alarm. 3:40, the phone read. Almost time for confession. 

The church, just a short walk away in this breezy June weather, was the same one he’d grown up in. He’d been baptized by and gotten his first communion with Father McKenzie, and he’d been confirmed by his replacement, Father O’Leary. And it was Father Reginato, the newest priest, straight from Italy, to whom he would confess now. 

Sonny had felt dry and cool on the walk over, but now he had broken out in a cold sweat. He picked at the hangnails on his thumb until they bled. The familiar nausea rose up to his throat. Sonny was nervous to confess, as always; he was well aware of the gravity of the sins he committed. 

He rushed through the opening sayings -- every week, always the same -- and averted his eyes from the clean-shaven middle aged priest before him. It never got easier to confess his great shame: 

“Father, I have had homosexual thoughts.” 

He received his penance -- one Hail Mary per offene -- and graciously gave thanks to Father Reginato. Though Sonny only saw him in confession or from the back pew on Sundays, he had begun to regard the priest as a friend. Sonny credited the man with keeping him on the right path, despite his nature. Sonny felt lighter, almost giddy, on his walk back home until he collided with a man carrying an armful of folders. 

“I’m so sorry,” Sonny said, picking up one of the folders from the sidewalk. 

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” the man said, though he sounded distressed. Sonny took in his features: a prominent nose; bright, gleaming eyes; lips stretched thin. His hands were nearly as large as Sonny’s. Their fingers touched for a moment as he took the folder from Sonny. 

Sonny found himself blushing and staring as the man said thanks and walked away. He watched the man’s coat flap in the wind and thought it odd to see something so expensive and warm in this neighborhood in June. 

Walking home, stroking his mustache, he began muttering to himself, “Hail Mary, full of grace….”

~~~

Work two days later was hell. Still new at Manhattan SVU, he barely knew where the bathroom was, let alone the file cabinets with the forms he needed. The cases were the same, though, and for the first time in his career the violent assaults and sensitive interviews felt normal. That had been his only constant in his career so far. After being transferred from place to place once he made detective, he no longer tried to establish a social life at his new jobs. There was Olivia with her own office in the back, there was a detective at the next table hard at work, and there was the blonde sitting next to him who made confused faces at his paperwork when she thought he wasn’t looking. And that’s how he’d know them. 

He extended his arm over the form he was filling out, obscuring it so the blonde couldn’t see. He made a face that was trying to say, “Do you mind?” but instead prompted her to speak. 

“I think you’re about to fill in the wrong section,” she explained. She pointed to a box further down the form. “You should be signing there.” 

Warily, Sonny gave her a smile. “Thanks.” 

“I’m Rollins, by the way. Amanda Rollins.” 

“Sonny Carisi.”

“Welcome.” 

She had a strong handshake and very cold hands. Sonny wondered if she’d be so kind to him a week from now. 

He played with his mustache as another detective brought in a suspect. 

~~~

That night, shaving his mustache in the dingy apartment he’d been renting. Rosary on the key hook with his keys. Sonny couldn’t do it quickly enough. 

The suspect had been brought in for interrogation, and Sonny was to observe. Behind the one way mirror it seemed so textbook, just like in his previous placements. But he knew that actually being in there with a rape suspect was entirely different. In there, you could smell the sweat on the suspect, feel the rising heat in the room, and sometimes the script got away from you and you’d say the wrong thing. 

Hence, observation. 

The suspect was a shorter man, dark hair, moderately dressed up, like he’d been taken straight from work. Calm and respectful at first, after the opening questions he’d gotten agitated, upper lip pulling back to a sneer. As things in the interrogation room became more tense, Sonny leaned back against the concrete wall and eyed the door. He knew exactly what to do, so why did he have to keep failing when it came to be his turn? 

Dark blond hairs falling in the sink. He’d grown to mustache half as a joke, half to be someone new. His sisters teased him mercilessly about it, told him he looked like a creeper, but he laughed it off. He wanted -- no, needed -- to be someone different when he came to Manhattan SVU, especially after being bounced around so many other assignments. What he was wasn’t good enough. 

The rosary on his key hook had come to work with him, too. He’d traded out individual Hail Marys for decades. He had grasped the beads in his pocket as he watched the man in the interrogation room become desperately angry, furious, before realizing they had him and defeatedly signing a confession. 

“And that’s how it’s done,” the older detective proclaimed as he left the room, nodding at Sonny. Rollins trailed him, holding the handcuffed suspect just ahead of her. She half smiled as the suspect peppered insults at the entire room. 

“You think I’m a rapist? Well then you’re all fucking rapists, and whores, and you --” he turned to Sonny “-- you pervert cop!”

Sonny had laughed it off, as had all of them. It was a bonding experience, he thought briefly. Something he hadn’t had before. 

But now, standing fresh-faced in front of the bathroom mirror, Sonny regretted the moment. The laughing, the camaraderie. Wasn’t it all too on the nose? “Pervert cop” -- as if Sonny had nothing to hide. No shameful sexual secret. As if there were nothing disordered about his very nature. 

The rosary was off the key hook now, in Sonny’s fervently praying hands. 

At the back of the group, laughing alongside the detectives, still tresed too formally for the setting. There was the man he’d met after confession. The one who’d stared into Sonny’s eyes and made his stomach twist.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I finally got this one done. I would be interested in a beta reader, but I don't know anyone irl I could share this with. Anyway, comments and criticism are always welcome!

His name was Barba. Just Barba, apparently. He was an ADA. Over the past few weeks, that was all Sonny had been able to learn. 

That, and one other thing: he was terrifying. Sonny had heard the rumors of the ADA ballsy enough to get choked in court in order to win a case, and he believed them. Before walking into Liv’s office, the man had once raked his eyes over Sonny’s figure, appraising him. It sent a shiver down Sonny’s spine, but apparently Barba did not like what he saw. Sonny could feel the glare on him; he didn’t need to look up to know so. 

And now, walking down the long hall to Barba’s office at night, Sonny felt his nerves flare. How would it be with just the two of them, he wondered. 

The office was dark, and it was fancy in a way that reminded him of his Nonno’s basement when he was a kid -- like he wasn’t supposed to be there. Brown walls, sturdy wooden desks, a near-empty bottle of dark liquid hiding somewhere in the back. It was after hours, but the office didn’t look it; papers were strewn over every surface in varying states of disarray. Sonny looked down at the armchair beside him to see a briefcase open, spilling its contents onto the seat. Next to it lay a silver pen. Sonny suspected it cost more than his tie. 

“Detective?”

And there he was, looking fatigued but just as striking as the day they’d run into each other. Barba had been highlighting something forcefully, his lips twisted into a scowl. But now he only seemed annoyed, his eyebrows raised expectantly. Sonny felt the twist in his stomach again. 

But he soldiered on, licking his lips and walking up to the great desk in the back. The case files he’d been tasked with bringing to the ADA were fairly self-explanatory: a rare open-and-shut rape case complete with a confession from the perp. Sonny handed over the case files and went over the story as he tried not to look at Barba sitting next to him. Well, not sitting per se--his feet were up on the desk and he was lying in his chair, chest angled toward Sonny. 

It was distracting. 

But again, Sonny worked through it. He set the case files on the edge of the desk for the ADA to see. He counted to ten, like the decades of the rosary he had crumpled up in his pocket. Deep, slow breaths, he told himself as Barba perused the files. You’ll overcome this. 

Maybe. 

“Am I correct in assuming that these notes in the margins are yours, Carisi?” Barba flipped over a new page, mouthing the words of the report on his pink lips. Sonny tried to look away, but he found that he couldn’t. He liked seeing his words on the counsellor’s lips, like they meant something to him. 

“Yes, counsellor,” he said, coughing. “Those are my notes.” 

Barba seemed to grin. “While I appreciate the legal advice, I am capable of making prosecutorial decisions on my own, detective,” he said slowly, quietly. Hurt and something else he couldn’t identify bloomed in Sonny’s chest. Barba continued, “Am I correct that you’re studying law?”

Sonny felt his ears turn red. “Yes, at Fordham Law. Nights.” 

He heard a dismissive noise come from Barba’s side of the desk. Sonny could feel his neck turning red as well. Barba was just as terrifying alone as he had been in the precinct. 

Maybe, Sonny wondered, this will help me get over this crush. 

He’d never called it a crush before now, but that was exactly what it was. Some shameful attraction to the other man that had been building in his chest, along with the unfounded hope that maybe they’d connect. But of course that could never happen. Sonny was simply being tempted; the right thing to do would be to leave here and go straight to the church, maybe find Father Reginato and plead for the sacrament of reconciliation. He would tell God of the sins he had committed in his own heart. He would go home clean, his spirit renewed. He would even open that letter waiting for him in his living room. All he needed to do was to get out of this chair. 

Sonny found that he couldn’t move. 

“Carisi?”

Sonny snapped to attention. Barba had finished flipping through the case file, and he was looking at Sonny expectantly. Sonny had no concept of how long he’d been thinking, and his legs still wouldn’t get him out of his chair. 

“Good work.” Barba said it quietly, as if he were admitting something painful. Sonny’s heart leapt. “I’m sure I’ll see you tomorrow. You’re no longer needed.”

And now, on command, Sonny could move his legs. He tried not to bump into the chairs or cabinets on his way out. His coordination was gone, and his limbs felt too long. He made it to the door when something he couldn’t control made him spin around, nearly toppling over. 

“Good night counsellor,” he called, “and get some rest.” 

~~~

Sonny walked past the church at nearly eleven. The lights were off, the doors were closed, and the street was somehow quiet. Hands in his jacket pockets, he paused for a moment outside the building. Though in a poorer neighborhood, this parish had quite a bit of money. The church had recently been renovated. The steeple stood taller than the buildings beside it, taller than the street lights on either side. It was supposed to be a welcoming place, but Sonny felt put off tonight, in the dark, full of shame from his meeting with Barba. 

Confession could wait until Saturday. 

~~~

“Theresa says she left a letter at your place,” Gina said later that night, her voice tinny over the phone. 

“Oh?” Sonny said, trying and failing to sound nonchalant for his sister. He felt ice rising in his stomach. 

“Yeah. You should take a look.” 

“Did ma and dad put you up to this?”

Gina spluttered. 

“You know, Gina, I don’t think I need to take a look at that letter.” Sonny knew he sounded pained, but he knew he needed to stand his ground. 

“Look, I know we’ve had this argument before, but I think you really need this. The whole family knows you’re struggling.” 

Gina knew how to press Sonny’s buttons; this he had known his entire life. He stood up from his couch and began pacing his tiny living room. “I am not,” he said weakly. 

“No, I get it.” Gina was trying to sound soothing. “You’ve been transferred again, and you haven’t been talking to us as much. God knows the last time you’ve come over for dinner.” She sighed. “We just don’t want to lose you.” 

Sonny stopped for a moment, took a breath, and tried to push down his emotions. “You’re not going to lose me. I’m doing the best I can. I’ve been going to confession every week. I’ve just been busy with the transfer, trying to get used to things. I’m not out--” he sneered in disgust “--sinning every night or anything.” 

“I just think you should take a look at that letter--” 

“I’m fine, Gina.” He hung up. 

Sonny woke up with a sore neck the next morning. He’d spent the night sulking on his couch, and now he was paying for it with pain radiating down his right arm as he brought in coffee for himself and Amanda. 

“You look cheery today,” she remarked as he placed the coffee on her desk. 

“Didn’t sleep too well last night,” he offered, hoping Amanda would drop it. 

She didn’t drop it. “What, have a hot date last night?” 

Sonny could feel the irritation and shame rising up his throat. He shook his head, neck twinging, before pretending to find a case file particularly interesting. 

He’d broken down last night and opened the letter, the one with the archdiocese’s address and the blue cross in the corner. He’d pulled out the papers and read that month’s testimony: “God took away my SSA through prayer!” Courage, the logo printed at the top of the page said. A prayer was printed at the end for people suffering from SSA--same sex attraction. 

Sonny had wanted to be angry at this. He knew his attraction wouldn’t just go away if he’d prayed hard enough. He’d already tried that. But instead, something settled on top of his chest and he found it hard to breathe. He’d put the letter back in the envelope with shaking hands and laid back on the couch to calm down. To think. 

“Carisi?”

Sonny jumped in his chair, startled by Liv standing right in front of him. 

“You okay?” she asked, brow furrowed in concern. 

Sonny nodded. 

“Run these down to Barba, will you?” She half-smiled as she handed several case files to him. 

Sonny nodded again, sighing. That same something once more settled on his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Courage is a real organization, but I won't link to it here because it's ... not good. From my understanding it's not quite conversion therapy, but it can be pretty damaging nonetheless.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay.

Sonny nicked his hand on a loose piece of panel on his kitchen counter when he went to grab his keys. It was a small cut; it took a moment to even bleed, and even then it wasn’t much. But it gave him pause. For a moment, things were clear -- just the blood beading on the back of his hand. There was no pain, just a dull throb. He stared at it for a moment before coming back to himself. 

It was a Friday, but Sonny wasn’t excited for the weekend. The past two weeks had been consumed by a grueling trial. Between court, night school, and new investigations, Sonny felt swamped. 

And yet he somehow always found time to spare. Lunch meetings, quick file runs, chats outside the courtroom, and always with Barba. It was as if the man were seeking him out. Sonny couldn’t understand why. 

That said, it’s not that he didn’t enjoy their meetings. The opportunity to learn about the ADA’s job aside, he found Barba not quite personable but sweet in his own way. It was a shame, Sonny thought, that he was so attracted to the man. 

The cut on his hand began to sting. Sonny flexed his fingers and the pain worsened. Perhaps he deserved this, he wondered. Perhaps this is what he deserved for thinking about Barba. 

~~~

The squad was in turmoil when he arrived 10 minutes late. He set down his coffees -- one for him, one for Amanda, who smiled warmly back at him -- and braced himself for Olivia to call him into her office. 

As if on cue, she opened the door and called him in. Normally calm and put together, she seemed harried today. Her hair was frizzy, her coat was still on, and she had a stain on her blouse. Sonny had never seen her this way before. He opened his mouth to ask her if she was all right -- 

“I need you to go meet with Barba. There’s been a new development in the Miles case. I need you to bring this paperwork to him.” She gestured at him, a manila folder in her hand. Sonny took it and tried to push down the worry and excitement building in his chest. 

He hadn’t managed to calm down once he made it to Carmen’s desk. He could feel the sweat on the back of his neck, and he hoped it wouldn’t stain his suit. He had worn a nice one today, though he hadn’t considered the summer heat. 

“No coffee for me?” Barba asked as Sonny strode into his office. 

“Nah, you have to come to the precinct for that,” Sonny said back, smiling. 

“I guess I’ll have to visit more often, then.” 

A small prickle rose up Sonny’s back. Barba was hardly this friendly with him. Last he knew, they were still in the middle of a trial that was taking a toll on all of them. Barba had dark shadows over his eyes the last time they met, outside the precinct long after they both should have left. Barba had been terse then, consumed by his own thoughts, preparing for the trial. But now, he seemed almost content. 

Was this flirting?

Sonny stopped just shy of the desk. He swallowed, took a deep breath. No, this couldn’t be flirting. He just wished so. 

“Are you all right, detective?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Sonny replied, pasting a smile back on his face. 

“What brings you here so early in the day?”

“I just wanted to see you,” Sonny quipped weakly. He tried to suppress the blush he felt on the back of his neck. “Well, actually, I have some papers for you. About the Miles case.” 

Barba rolled his eyes. “You’re giving me a migraine already. We’re already to trial and now something’s changed?”

Sonny held up the envelope in defense. “I’m just the messenger, don’t shoot.” 

And Barba—was he smiling? It was something Sonny hadn’t seen in days, and directed at him. He filed the memory away as something to bask in later. He handed the envelope to Barba, hoping the contents inside would be helpful. 

He watched as Barba’s eyes grew wide and his smile wider. “This is exactly what I needed. Thank you, detective. That will be all.” 

~~~

The bar was dimly lit, and for that Sonny was thankful. He hadn’t known what to wear, so he’d settled on dark jeans and a button-up—light blue, the color his sisters said suited him best. But here he spotted slacks and blouses, jackets and ties, and he once again felt out of place. 

Amanda flagged him down from the far end of the bar. She was still wearing her work clothes from the day, and she appeared to be nursing a second beer. Sonny put his sweaty hands in his pockets and joined her. 

“Do you do these often?” he asked her after ordering a beer of his own, “meet up after cases are done?” 

“Only after the tough ones,” Amanda replied. “And this one sure was a tough one.” 

“I’m glad it’s over.” Sonny took a long sip from his beer. “And I’m almost as glad he’s going to prison.”

Amanda raised an eyebrow. “It bothered you that much?” 

“No,” Sonny backpedaled. It was just new for me, that’s all.” 

“You never got serial cases? Not in Staten Island or Queens?” 

“Not a one,” he answered. He was being honest, to be fair, but it felt like a lie. He’d only been in each borough for a short time, and they had never let him near the more sensitive cases. But that was the last thing he wanted Amanda to know. She liked him, he knew. Maybe she was beginning to respect him. “Here, let me buy you a drink,” he started, but she lay her hand over his. 

“You really don’t have to do that, Carisi. I can fend for myself.” She finished the last of her beer and signaled for another. “Besides,” she said with a grin, I think someone else has eyes for you.” 

“What?” Sonny turned from staring at his drink to staring straight at her. “Wh--?” He saw the grin on Amanda’s face. “Very funny.” 

“I’m not kidding! Just look over there,” she said, pointing over her shoulder to a booth behind them. 

Sonny turned around only to be clapped on the shoulder by his fellow detective. 

“I didn’t mean actually look, you dummy!” Amanda sighed and took a long sip of her drink. “Be a little subtle, Carisi.” 

Sonny could barely remember what he saw. A couple, both with dark hair, neither one looking at him. There wasn’t a face to recognize. 

“Did you see him?” Amanda pried.

“Him?” Sonny’s blood ran cold. Was this some kind of joke, he wondered, or did Amanda somehow know? He’d been so careful; how did he give himself away?

“So you did see him,” Amanda inferred, probably from seeing Sonny go rigid. He knocked his knuckles on the table and forced himself into a more natural pose. He shook his head and drained his drink. 

Something happened with the baseball game on TV that made Amanda yell. He was happy to let her explain how she’d warmed up to New York baseball despite being a lifelong fan of the Braves. She seemed happy to talk his ear off about the players she loved, the state of the team this season, and how she sometimes missed Georgia. Sonny couldn’t relate; he’d never lived far from where he grew up. All the while the two of them kept ordering drinks. 

“Glad to see you two here, Rollins, Carisi,” came a voice from behind them. Sonny turned around to see Olivia seated in the booth behind them, Barba across from her. “Care to join us?” 

Amanda giggled and motioned for Sonny to sit next to Barba. Olivia put an arm around her shoulders. 

The first thing he noticed was the heat--the warm body pressed up next to his. Perhaps he should have questioned why they were sitting so close, but he had been drinking enough to simply enjoy the cosiness of the two of them together in the booth. And it really was just the two of them: though Amanda and Olivia sat across from them, they were whispering to each other in a world of their own. Sonny turned to face Barba. His eyes gleamed bright in a way that reminded Sonny of the early summer, possibly deja vu. 

The second thing he noticed was that Barba was talking to him. 

“...So, thank you for bringing in those papers earlier today. You saved the case.” 

Sonny squirmed under the raise. “I literally didn’t do anything. The sarge just told me to bring you those --”

Barba slid his hand over Sonny’s lower back, and Sonny froze. In any other situation, he would have tried to lean away from Barba’s hand, tried to ignore the pent-up excitement in his chest. But now, after a few drinks, he let himself lean into the touch….


End file.
